I expected to build a home inside your chest, despite the tremors that rattled your ribcage. I intended to embed myself beneath your splintering bones and occupy the vacant ventricles of your heart, instead you constructed me a funeral pyre of cigarettes and reduced me to ash among the other extinguished hearts that combusted from solely your touch, but judging by the smoke that escaped your lungs and descended from your a gaped mouth that your chest was already a burning building ready to crash in on itself and become nothing more than what you made me..
YOU ARE READING
The Story Of A Teenage Dirtbag
ПоэзияThis is composed of all my writings, simple poetry that expresses how I feel
